Free The Duke of Snow and Apples by Elizabeth Vail Page A

will as waves of scarlet silk fluttered and rippled all around her. The gown made her look lithe and beautiful and powerful. It made her a princess. It made her a queen.
    However, today she felt like a sham princess, a temporary queen allowed one last fete before rebels led her to the gallows. She wasn’t ready to wear this dress.
    Aunt Hildy rose from her settee, her eyes glistening. “You are going to break the heart of every bachelor in that ballroom tonight. You should carry a small broom with you, perhaps, to sweep up the pieces.”
    “She will have Frederique for that,” said Lamonte.
    Ah yes, Frederick . Charlotte’s hands clenched into fists. If anything ended up broken and in pieces tonight, she would ensure Frederick was involved.
    When no task remained with which to delay the inevitable, Charlotte glided out of the dressing room. Her gown’s light, rippling skirts made it impossible to merely walk. Heading toward the main staircase, she met Mr. Horace Oswald on the landing. Upon seeing her, he stopped dead as if hitting an invisible wall. After a startled hesitation, he took her hand and offered a kiss upon the back of her glove.
    At last, he managed, “You are a rose in full bloom, Miss Charlotte.”
    Charlotte’s anger settled back on its haunches. Perhaps she could wait until the morning to toss Frederick off Charmant Park’s highest battlements. “Thank you, Mr. Oswald. I realize daring hues aren’t quite the thing, but I couldn’t resist. Red, you see, is my favorite color. You must see so many varying shades of it in your work with horticulture.”
    “That’s always the first thing most people notice about roses,” Mr. Oswald said. “However, even when I was a small child, I always noticed the many shades of green. The vines, the leaves, the life that supports the flowers. That’s always what’s drawn me to my passion. I don’t think I could ever tire of that color. I suppose that’s why I thought it was a splendid idea when I heard Viscount Elban was thinking of reupholstering his curricle in sage.”
    Charlotte stiffened, as her rage surged to its paws, snarling for blood. Green? Lord Elban and Mr. Oswald’s favorite colors were green? The opposite of red? This went beyond tossed fruit and mistaken information and presumptuous helpfulness. This was betrayal. This was war .
    “Miss Charlotte?”
    Tamping down her temper, she replied without thinking. “Marvelous choice, green. No better color for an expensive vehicle that requires two horses to pull it at a decent speed—the better to match the faces of the lowly dog-cart drivers who watch it pass.”
    Mr. Oswald laughed, a fuller, richer sound than she was accustomed to hearing from him. “Quite true, Miss Charlotte. I’d never thought about it that way before.” He offered his arm with more grace, and escorted her down the stairs.
    A crowd of sparkling, gaily-dressed ladies and elegant gentleman murmured and rustled in Lady Balrumple’s foyer, eager to split off into separate carriages to attend Lord and Lady Mettle’s ball. Blue-and-gold footmen circled the edges of the flock like diligent sheepdogs, helping guests into their great coats and pelisses, fetching gloves and scarves.
    As Charlotte descended the stairs to join the group, she spotted Frederick. Shooed off with an order from Lady Enshaw, he darted across the black-and-white marble floor, only to look up and see Charlotte. His face opened in transparent shock, his jaw sagged downward, his eyes widened, and his dark eyebrows flew up like startled crows. He stared at her, transfixed, until his unseeing feet delivered him into an unforgiving column.
    Charlotte smiled. I hope that hurt . She glanced at Mr. Oswald. He continued forward, having noticed nothing. She decided to do the same.
    When they reached Lord and Lady Mettle’s estate, however, Frederick arrived to give fresh rise to Charlotte’s righteous fury. He waited by the carriage door, handing passengers to the